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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25143682">3AM Talk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Typewriterblood/pseuds/Typewriterblood'>Typewriterblood</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort, Fluff, Fluff Bingo, Late night talks, M/M, Sleepwalking, Tea, no beta we die like men, platonic, sleepdriving, unless...?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 07:46:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>972</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25143682</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Typewriterblood/pseuds/Typewriterblood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Will’s sleepwalking takes the form of a sleep drive to Hannibal’s house.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>3AM Talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Will wakes up as soon as his fist pounds a third knock against the front door. Startled, he feels his senses rush back to him, suddenly aware of the cold night air and his t-shirt sticking to his low back, prickling with anxious sweat. Taking a few deep breaths, he looks at his surroundings; his car was parked in the grass, crooked, headlights still burning yellow-white in the dark. Hearing the deadbolt rotate, he turned back to the door, gritting his teeth as Hannibal filled the threshold. </p>
<p>    “Will.” He almost sounded pleased with the discovery. He gestured Will in, stepping back against the door as he brushed past him, trying to gather himself. Hannibal briefly checked his watch; 3 AM. He closes the door, securing it once more.</p>
<p>    “I’m sorry.” Will says, shaking his head. “I’m not sure what really brought me here. Apparently I’m driving in my sleep, now…” </p>
<p>Hannibal entered his pristine kitchen and plucked a tea kettle from a cabinet, filling it carefully with water and setting it on the stovetop.</p>
<p>    “Not to worry. You got here in one piece, it seems.” Hannibal mused. </p>
<p>“Yeah...this time.”</p>
<p>Hannibal turned to face him, and Will forced his eyes his direction. He was in a thick, forrest green robe with white trim. It was irritating that even in the middle of the night, he found the time to look completely put together. Will pushed his fingers into the tightness of his back muscles, wondering what strange position he must’ve been driving in for an hour.</p>
<p>    “What’s on your mind, Will?”</p>
<p>Will hunched himself over, sitting on the couch. He shook his head, silent. He wasn’t sure where to begin. He fidgeted with the edge of his boxer shorts. Somewhere, a grandfather clock tallied the seconds that passed between their silence, as if in warning.</p>
<p>    Hannibal procured two teacups and their saucers, filling them halfway with a honey-colored brew. The room felt warmer already, filled with the floral brush of chamomile and vanilla. Will gratefully took his cup and gave a strained smile as he brought it to his lips. Hannibal took a seat on the ottoman across from him, their knees almost touching. Will recoiled slightly, keeping his legs close to the couch. Hannibal glanced down at the motion and let out a sigh.</p>
<p>    “Will, I can’t help you unless you speak to me.”</p>
<p>    “As my therapist?” Will grimaced.<br/>    “As your friend.” he said firmly.</p>
<p>Will leaned back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. With his right hand occupied, his left hand dug little divots into his knee. The motion was not lost on Hannibal. </p>
<p>    “Is there something wrong with our friendship, Will?”<br/>    “No! That’s not it. I just...I don’t really have friends?” he winced through the statement, but continued. “I’m not sure if there’s anyone else whose house I could have possibly ended up at. And at this point, I feel guilty for bringing you into my…” Will swirled a hand through the air, aimlessly searching for the proper word. “...mess.”</p>
<p>Hannibal smiled warmly at him. </p>
<p>“No mess,” he said. “Just man.”</p>
<p>    “Just a man, but full of mess.” </p>
<p>Hannibal set a hand on Will’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.</p>
<p>    “No man is without his messes. But it should be known no man is his mess.” </p>
<p>Will forced himself to avoid rolling his eyes. </p>
<p>    “Are you telling me the great Dr. Lecter is full of messes? Will-Graham-Style messes?”</p>
<p>Hannibal gave a genuine smile, showing his teeth and allowing his eyes to crease up.</p>
<p>    “I suppose in some sense, having you here at 3 AM is somewhat of a Will-Graham-Style mess. Have you ever stopped to consider that I might have my own personal conflicts, as well?”</p>
<p>Immediately, Will felt regret at his attitude. He started to shake his head when Hannibal rubbed a thumb over his shoulder reassuringly. The sensation was gentle, and it froze him.<br/>    “None of that. Listen to me, Will. I have been described as wearing a ‘person suit’...that isn’t necessarily a reassuring statement to hear, especially from my own therapist.”<br/>    “A...person suit?” </p>
<p>    “Yes. A person suit. Does it look convincing?” </p>
<p>Will looked him over, taking in the thin shadow of stubble rising on Hannibal’s face, his sharp cheekbones, and dark eyes. As Hannibal’s smile faded, a certain deadness surfaced—a deadness Will hadn’t seen before, or had successfully willed himself to ignore until now. Looking into Hannibal’s eyes felt like entering an empty room, a familiar room, but one cramped with shadows. His stare felt omnipresent. He couldn’t decide if he felt comfort or uneasiness with this sensation, and he forced himself to look away. Hannibal finally removed his hand from Will’s shoulder, picking up his own cup of tea and taking a patient swallow as Will formed his thoughts.</p>
<p>    “Very convincing,” Will finally managed, softly. Hannibal gave a nod.</p>
<p>    “Know that we are one and the same. We can see each other, accept one another. You will always be welcome in my home, Will. Always.”</p>
<p>    Will nodded thoughtfully, staring into his teacup. Hannibal stood up from the ottoman. </p>
<p>“As much as I would like to believe you could return safely to Wolf Trap, it would soothe my nerves to know you are here instead. If you begin to sleepwalk—or drive—again, I will be able to remedy that much faster with your being here. You must know: I am a very light sleeper.” </p>
<p>Will let out a small laugh, and mumbled a thanks. His exhaustion showed in smudged blue-gray swatches beneath his eyes. He blinked the dryness away and swallowed the last of his tea. </p>
<p> “And I could make you breakfast,” Hannibal added, already halfway down a long hallway, carrying a thick blanket. Will trailed after him, running a hand through his hair.<br/>“Well, when you put it that way.” </p>
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